


RvB Mini-fics

by PeacefulPhoenix



Series: Daily Writing [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Short Stories, collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-30 07:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15746880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeacefulPhoenix/pseuds/PeacefulPhoenix
Summary: A bunch of different stuff I write mostly to practice writing. I take requests, first posted to writing-partners.tumblr.com then posted here





	1. Wash/Tucker

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on writing-partners.tumblr.com, check there to make requests or see things first

The whole world felt crisp this early in the morning. Dew covered the grass and the air felt clean. Perfect for a jog. And for once, Wash had company.

“I still don’t know how you get up this early every day,” Tucker said between yawns. He didn’t complain though and the two went through warmups together.

It was easy to wake up early when you didn’t want to sleep very much. But he didn’t say that. Instead he said, “It’s not so bad when you get used to it. You’ll see.” Despite not really needing to, Wash ran through a few arm stretches. Putting off starting for just a little longer.

Tucker laughed and copied the motions. “I don’t plan on getting used to it any time soon so watch yourself, Washington.”

“Get moving, Captain Tucker,” Wash retorted with a smile. 

Both had run this track so many times that it hardly posed a challenge for a light morning jog so by lap three, neither were even huffing yet. Wash let his mind wander while he jogged. That’s what morning jogs were for anyways. Usually he was alone but Tucker’s company also drew his attention.

It had been months since they first arrived in chorus and a lot had changed since then. Tucker had changed. He’d been reluctant to do anything at first. Getting him to train at all was like pulling teeth and now he was here jogging at the crack of dawn. 

But it wasn’t just his temperament that had changed. What was it that Tucker had said all that time ago? “I have glorious calves and a miserable fucking life.” That was it. And it was more than just his calves. He’d always been in decent shape but the recent increase in training had left him looking well.. To be frank, it had left him looking pretty great. Tucker had opted to run shirtless -- because of course he had -- and Wash was having a hard time not watching the muscles in his back. And well-

Tucker spun around, jogging backwards with ease now that they were at one of the straightaways on the track. “Are you watching my ass, Agent Washington?” A sly little smile graced Tucker’s face and Wash could feel the blush creeping up the back of his neck.

Did he know or was he just making an uncomfortably accurate joke? It was hard to tell with him. So Wash just coughed into his fist and looked away.

“It’s okay, baby, I know I look great. Drink it up.” Tucker spread out his arms and his smile grew. He even did a little spin without breaking stride. “I don’t work hard on this for no one to appreciate!”

The posturing, at least, made it easier for Wash to watch him without ogling. “And so humble, on top of it all,” he managed, keeping his eyes on Tucker’s. 

Tucker waved him off with a wink. “Oh don’t play,” he started, “I know you like seeing me all hot and sweaty. That’s why you’re always making me run so many laps isn’t it?” 

“No one’s making you run right now,” Wash pointed out.

It didn’t phase Tucker for half a second. “You’re very persuasive,” he countered, biting his lip and giving Wash some kind of look.

“Turn around before I make you run extra then.”

“Only if you promise to keep watching my ass,” Tucker tossed back with a grin from ear to ear. 

Wash wasn’t sure what possessed him to say, “Well since you asked so nicely...” but he would vehemently deny it whenever Tucker brought it up around other people. And realizing what he’d said, the blush from earlier creeped up, burning in his ears. 

Tucker nearly choked and tried to pass it off as a cough, tipping his head to the side like he was thinking it over before nodding and turning around, a bit of a skip in his step that Wash was fairly sure was intended to sway his hips more. 

Maybe bringing Tucker along had been a mistake. Or maybe it had been one of Wash’s greatest ideas. Time would have to tell.


	2. Church/Tucker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post bang for Church and Tucker

“Is that my shirt?” Church stared at the shirt in question, a faded Blue Army shirt from years ago. His lips parted like he was going to talk again, eyebrows knit together, before his lips closed again and settled back into his familiar scowl. “You can’t just take my shirt, asshole.”

Tucker didn’t seem bothered at all by Church. “Couldn’t find mine,” he responded without looking up from the floor. 

With a sigh, Church shook his head. “Maybe your priority should be pants, Tucker. Just a suggestion.” 

“Well maybe if you weren’t kicking me out I wouldn’t need either. Just a suggestion.” Tucker picked up Church’s own pants from the floor and threw them at him, missing so they landed lamely on the bed beside him. 

“Nice aim,” Church quipped and Tucker flipped him off. “And that’s not a suggestion.”

Tucker threw up his hands and spun around to face away from Church. “Fine, whatever. It’s not like I need pants anyways. There’s no one out here but us.”

“For my sanity, you need pants.”

“Why, you gonna jump my bones if I don’t?” Tucker looked over his shoulders and wiggled his eyebrows at Church. Also just for good measure he bent forward just enough for his ass to peak out from under the shirt. Then he considered something else and a smile grew from ear to ear. “Again, that is!”

Church just rolled his eyes. “You’re misrepresenting who jumped who’s bones.” It had very clearly been Tucker initiating. And Church had only gone along with it because he was bored. Not ‘cause he thought Tucker was cute or anything. That would be crazy.

“Buzzkill,” Tucker pouted.

“Besides, what if the Reds attack? What, you wanna be caught with your dick out?”

For a second, Tucker considered it before ultimately shrugging it off. “It would be one hell of a distraction, you have to give me that.” He finally found and picked up his pants from the floor, shimmying back into them. 

Church did not give him that. “Not that distracting,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Hey! It distracted you!” He almost sounded genuinely offended. And that pout from a few seconds ago was back with a fury. 

But it wasn’t in Church’s nature to back down from anything. So he barrelled forward. “For maybe 5 minutes.”

Now he genuinely did look offended but he played it off as best he could. Half a second later his face was back under control and he huffed overdramatically. “You wound me. And I thought we really had something.” Tucker shook his head sadly and looked down. 

“Get out of my fucking room, Tucker.” He got up to escort -- or really to shove -- Tucker out of his room. When the covers moved he found Tucker’s shirt though and instead settled for throwing it at his head. He would have missed too, if Tucker hadn’t dodged into it. 

“I’m keeping this shirt,” he called over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the room.


	3. Felix/Tucker

The New Republic was fucking fine or whatever. But Tucker was really starting to get fucking sick of everyone and everything to do with it. It was all such a waste of time. Okay maybe it wasn’t a waste of time for them but it sure was for him. He hadn’t even meant to be on this stupid planet. They’d crashed here. 

This wasn’t his war.

There was only one thing keeping him from walking right back to that shitty crash site. Well okay two reasons. The first being it probably wasn’t safe there anymore. And the second… He couldn’t leave without Wash.

The sound of footsteps outside his door made him sigh. “Please… Just leave me alone.” It didn’t matter who it was. He wasn’t in the mood to entertain.

“Come on, sugar, you’re gonna kick me out?” Felix.

When Tucker didn’t answer, he let himself in, sitting at the edge of the bed Tucker was laying on. “So is this angst hour I’m interrupting or something?”

Tucker really wanted not to not dignify that with an answer. But for some reason he did anyways. “It’s not angst hour or whatever. That’s stupid,” he shot back, just enough bite in his tone to get his point across.

One of Felix’s hands went to his chest like he was shocked. “Dial back the attitude. I’m not here to judge you, Tucker.” He waited until Tucker’s eyes flicked away from the ceiling and to his own to continue. “I’m here to lend my ear. It’s pretty obvious from training that something’s on your mind. And you’re not gonna be any help to anyone until you get it off your chest.”

“So that’s why you’re here.” Tucker’s eyes drifted pointedly away from Felix’s again. “My feelings are inconvenient.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Felix shaking his head. “Look at me.” He did no such thing. “Fine, be difficult. I’m here trying to help. Because I care. But if you’re so insistent you want to mope on your own, fuck me for getting in your way,” he said, standing dramatically as if to leave the room. And Tucker was inclined to let him go. 

“Wait.” Fuck. “You can stay.”

He paused, turning back to face Tucker again. “I can stay or you want me to stay?”

Tucker considered it for a moment before finally deciding on, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

With a sigh, Tucker heaved himself up and sat with his back to the wall. Felix came back and sat beside him. “I didn’t mean to take it out on the lieutenants.”

“They’re trying,” Felix replied. “Even if that doesn’t mean they’re any good.” He paused for a moment before chuckling to himself. “Now you see what I’ve been dealing with actually.”

And what Wash had been dealing with. Tucker had been such a dick to him all the time. Was this how he’d felt all those times Tucker blew off training? He would have to apologize when he saw Wash again. If… “I need them to be better. I can’t… They can’t win a war like this. They probably couldn’t even work together to build an IKEA shelf.”

“You can’t what?” Damn Felix for catching that. Damn him for always catching things.

Tucker looked down at his hands, furling and unfurling his fingers. “I can’t… Look, I can’t save Wash, okay? I can’t train them which means I can’t save Wash which means whatever they’re doing to him…” All sorts of images played in his mind. All sorts of torture they could be doing to Wash. And the others. “Fuck.” He squeezed his eyes shut and dug the heels of his hands into them as if that would drive away the images. It didn’t.

An arm snaked around his shoulders. “You’re doing your best, Tucker. I’m sure he knows that.” 

But that almost made it worst didn’t it? Wash locked up somewhere, believing in him. Thinking that he would bust in and rescue him. That faith that would hold him through whatever they were doing to him. Misplaced faith. How long before he gave up and realized Tucker wasn’t coming? 

Tears stung his eyes and he squeezed his eyes shut harder, willing his brain to stop. But it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t stop until they were spilling out past his lashes. “It’s not- I’m not- It won’t be enough. My best isn’t enough,” he managed to choke out, trying desperately hard not to sob. Not in front of Felix. 

But Felix surprised him, wrapping both arms around him and pulling Tucker to his chest. “You can’t give up on him. Not yet…” One of his hands found its way into Tucker’s dreads and ran through them. “If you care about him, and I know you do, you have to keep trying.”

A single sob made it past Tucker’s defenses and he let himself lean against Felix. Come on. Back in control. Ground yourself. The hand in his hair. That’s what he’d focus on. It was a constant, moving the same way over and over. And if he focused on it enough, his heart felt less like it was going to fall out of his chest and smash to pieces. 

Felix kept stroking his hair and Tucker kept breathing until everything seemed more still. More okay. Nothing was perfect yet. Not by a long shot. But maybe it wasn’t hopeless either.

He looked up at Felix, who met his eyes evenly. There was something solid about him. Like he wasn’t going anywhere. Like he was stable. “Thank you. For staying,” he found himself mumbling under his breath. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Felix responded, voice even and sure. Tucker felt his eyes drawn to his lips as he spoke. 

He needed something stable right now. There shouldn’t be any shame in that. There shouldn’t be any shame in taking comfort where he could find it. Right?

Without really telling his body to do so, Tucker found himself moving, turning in Felix’s arms until they were chest to chest, one of Tucker’s legs on either side of Felix. And his eyes still glued on those lips. “Good,” he whispered before allowing himself to chase them. 

Felix’s fingers curled in his hair as he kissed back, letting Tucker set the pace. As Tucker’s eyes slid closed Felix knew he had him right where he wanted him. Wrapped around his finger.


	4. Grif & Simmons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of an RvB Post-apocalypse AU I have in my head

“Here you go, buddy. Don’t tell anyone where you got this, hear me? It’ll be our little secret,” Grif muttered as he took some of his dinner off his own plate and held it out in an open palm for Spike. At least, that’s what Grif had been calling the scrawny dog that hung out around the edge of camp. He had no idea if it was a boy or girl but he figured Spike was a pretty gender neutral name. And nice and tough! Not that this dog seemed particularly tough at all.

A sudden sound had his head whipping around while Spike ran off, tail between his legs. “That things is gonna bite you one of these days.” Simmons was leaning against the scrap metal and wood wall that served as the edge of camp. His arm was crossed over his chest like he disapproved but the ghost of a smile told Grif all he needed to know.

Grif leaned back in the lawn chair he’d be stationed at. “Spike? Nah, he and I are super tight. Man’s best friend, right?” He looked back over his shoulder again to see if he could still see Spike but nope. If he was still around he was keeping out of sight. 

“He’s a hungry dog, Grif,” Simmons retorted, fixing Grif with a look. “Not man’s best friend.”

Grif waved it off without even looking back over at him. “You’re just jealous I like him more than you.”

“Sure.” 

Simmons walked closer to Grif, pulling up an overturned bucket and sitting down on it. “Anything out there?”

“Not that I can see. Been pretty quiet today.” Grif stretched out, going to put his arms behind his head. Unfortunately, he forgot that he’d leant his gun up against the side of his chair and it went clattering to the ground. 

“Grif!” Simmons jumped up and back like it was gonna bite him. Only a second later, after it didn’t go off did he come back, snatching the rifle off the ground before Grif could get it. Then again, he had failed to even try to grab it from the ground. “What is wrong with you?!”

He shrugged. “According to Sarge, a lot.” 

Simmons sat back down, shaking his head and setting the rifle across his lap. “If he saw that, you would be so dead.”

“Everyone has to die someday, Simmons.”

“Who would take care of Spike?”

Grif’s face fell and he looked behind him at the rubble in the street. “Oh shit, you’re right.” Poor Spike. Well that was as good a reason as any to stay alive, he supposed. No one else would feed that dog like he did. 

“I usually am.” He reached over to pat Grif’s shoulders and the two fell to silence.

They sat together until the sun began to fall behind the crumbling building lining the street.


	5. Wash/Tucker

Every morning for the past year or so had gone pretty much the same. Around the crack of dawn, light would pour into a cold cement room, filling the otherwise color-less room with shades of pink and yellow. And nearly as soon as that sun hit the bed, Agent Washington would wake up. He’d started sleeping on the side of the bed not pressed up against the wall so he could get up without waking his partner. There had been one too many clumsy mornings trying to climb over him without waking him. Most of those mornings hadn’t gone as planned. 

Getting out of bed was easy at that point in his life. As soon as the light pried his eyes awake, he’d be swinging his legs out of the bed. Before Tucker even woke up, he was showered, dressed, and most days he’d already had breakfast. That didn’t mean that if he had the time, he wouldn’t keep Tucker company as he did all those things himself. 

And then it was training, strategizing, war.

But then the war had ended.

Washington’s new room looked more lived in. His books lined the shelves, his favorite movies were stacked in a pile on the desk. They’d even put up a few posters. Though most of those posters were Tucker’s and entirely too many featured scantily clad women for Wash’s tastes. He wasn’t even entirely sure they were to Tucker’s taste either. He was about 60% sure that Tucker had mostly hung them up as a joke. But they added color to the room so Wash wasn’t complaining. Much.

The most noticable difference in this new room was the blanket nailed into the wall blocking out the window. 

Tucker was usually the first to wake up these days. He woke to a king-sized bed, a pile of blankets, and the love of his life breathing peacefully. Most days he closed his eyes and just listened but today he felt the urge to watch. To feel.

He laid his head down on Wash’s chest to feel the rise and fall of his breath. This wasn’t the most attractive angle to view his partner from but Tucker didn’t mind. Because Wash was his. And that wouldn’t change no matter how beautiful or ugly he was. Though beautiful was definitely prefered.

Tucker propped up his head on his arm and watched Wash’s face now. Whatever dreams he was having this morning must have been sweet because his lips were curled ever so slightly up. Despite the scars criss crossing his face he still looked soft now. He looked at peace.

As soon as Tucker reached out his fingers to comb through his partner’s hair, Wash made a sound that could only be described as a purr.

“How long have you been awake?” Tucker asked quietly, keeping up the petting motion. 

Wash turned his head to press a kiss to the inside of Tucker’s wrist. “Not long.” His eyes stayed closed but Tucker found himself smiling at him nonetheless. 

When Wash’s eyes finally did open he smiled back. 

“What’s on the agenda today?”

Tucker groaned playfully and tucked his face into Wash’s neck. “I don’t think you’re grasping the concept of retirement. There is no agenda.” 

Now it was Wash’s hand in Tucker’s dreads. “Maybe our agenda should be staying in bed, hmm?”

“Finally a good idea.” Tucker pressed gentle kisses into the soft skin of Wash’s neck. 

Wash gripped a handful of Tucker’s hair and guided his head up and closer to his own. “I love you,” he whispered, lips just an inch from Tucker’s own as he talked. 

Tucker closed the gap for a quick kiss before responding, “I love you too,” and closing the gap again.


	6. Church, Tucker, & Junior

“Come on, Junior,” Tucker prompted holding out a toy, Junior’s favorite toy actually, while crouching a few feet away. It wasn’t anything fancy really. Just something Tucker had sitting around his room -- a purple and blue stuffed dog. But Junior had fallen in love with it. So it was his now. And just like Tucker had hoped, the toddler stumbled towards him. “There you go!”

When Junior reached him, he took the dog and attempted to stuff the whole thing in his mouth. The best he got was the snout.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Church stood over the pair, arms crossed over his chest.

Tucker only looked up for a second before shaking his head and looking down. “Swearing in front of a kid now?”

Church scoffed. “Like he even understands.” There was a pause and then Church spoke again. “I mean, he doesn’t understand, right?”

“Nah probably not.” Junior had been babbling for a while but no real words yet. So he probably didn’t understand words either.”Would it matter if he could understand?”

A moment’s hesitation before, “Nah.” Church sat down beside the. “He’s walking already?” 

“Doc says he’s developing really quickly. But I guess that’s the alien in him.” They watched the kid for a while. He had plopped down and now had the dog in his lap and was petting it. “I don’t know anything about the alien side of him actually. Should have paid more attention in class or something.”

That got a laugh from Church. “Yeah cause I’m sure there’s a whole class called “What to do if an alien impregnates me.” Probably a real hit.” Tucker gave him side-eyes and Church smiled wider. “You’re not that special, hot shot.”

Tucker leaned over and knocked his shoulder against Church’s. “Yeah, I should join a support group or something. Probably a great place to meet ladies.”

Junior held up his toy and started babbling in Tucker’s direction. “Oh really, bud? No way!” Junior laughed and Tucker laughed along with him. Until he caught a look from Church. “What? Doc said it’s good to play along. Helps them develop and shit.”

“Yeah sure. Also what happened to not swearing in front of the kid?”

“Shit doesn’t count… Does it?”

“Nah,” Church said as Tucker pulled Junior into his lap and bounced him gently. “Walso, you sure it’s girls you want to meet?”

“What?” Tucker looked up from Junior, who was now sucking happily on his dad’s fingers.

Church watched the kid for half a second before looking away. “You said the support group would be a great place to meet women.”

“Yeah, picking up chicks is kinda my thing, Church. Keep up. Besides, it’s a fake support group so what does it matter?” His hand pet down Junior’s arm and he kissed his head. 

Church watched, growing quieter than normal. Well, really, pretty much anything would be quieter than normal for Church. But this was suspiciously quiet.

“Whatever you want to say, dude, spit it out.”

“You always talk about chicks but you fucked a dude alien. Which is pretty gay. And shit, dude, we were at war with those things not too long ago.” Tucker’s hand stilled on Junior’s arm and it was his turn to fall silent. Church blundered on. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay. Or bi! Hell, I’m bi. It’s just weird, ya know? You act like the most aggressively straight dude ever. Never expected you to go for an alien dude.” 

Tucker spoke quietly. Like he hadn’t meant to speak at all. “I didn’t.” He refused to look up.

“I mean… Not to be contrarian-” because that would be so out of character for him. “-but you’re literally holding your gay love child right now.”

“He’s not a love child.”

“Sure, whatever, your happy little accident.”

“I didn’t have sex with the alien.”

He looked between the Tucker and Junior. “Dude.” 

“Church, for once in your life shut up and listen.” Church fell silent. “I didn’t have sex with the alien. However I got pregnant, it wasn’t that. Like I said, there’s a lot I don’t know about these aliens. Sangheili.”

“So…”

“So the kid isn’t my fault.” He paused for a moment. “I haven’t even told my parents yet.”

“Well that would be a good place to start. Think they’re gonna be upset?”

“Dad always wanted grandkids. Just… Not like this probably. Mom might be annoyed I’m raising him on my own. Like that I’m not married or nothing? I’m sure it’ll be fine. They love me.”

“You’re lucky.”

“Oh am I now?”

“Yeah you are, dumbass. Because despite all this, you’ll be fine. You’ll have your family on your side and you’ve got a cool alien sword and I know you’ll be a good dad.”

“I’m trying, anyways. I still can’t believe he’s mine but he deserves to be taken care of. Not his fault he exists. I don’t think…”

“You’re a much better dude than I am.”

“Well that’s always been true.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever asshole.”


End file.
